The Fine Line
by Midnight Memories
Summary: There is a fine line between hobbies and work. Unfortunately, Nancy crosses it without even realizing she does so. NancyFrank


**Disclaimer**: I, in no way own the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew, or anything that have to do with them.

_Thanks_ to Roswalyn, who brings beautiful Nancy/Frank stories to this website, and who inspired me through her writing to try my shot at this pairing as well!

* * *

**The Fine Line**

Unintentionally, Nancy's eyes drifted towards the golden ornament on the other side of the room. It was ancient and somewhat decrepit, and her curious mind naturally began to wander. Its luster long gone, the lone cone-shaped sculpture looked lost between the hundreds of trinkets that shone under the bright lamps. Her eyes then studied its surrounding and she began to wonder why the owner had placed such an old trinket directly behind the shiniest and most expensive ones.

Then, the deep voice of her partner broke through her line of thought. "Ma'am, Nancy and I really appreciate hearing about you and your late husband, but we need to get back at the office before three. Would you mind telling us about the robbery?"

Nancy blinked, then met Frank Hardy's steely brown eyes with her own, then shrugged lightly. He had definitely caught her dozing, yet his words hinted that he was as sick as she was of that conversation.

The old woman in front of them, Mrs. Robinson, looked appalled by the comment. Her small mouth fell open, revealing shiny dentures, and her light brown eyes hardened behind the thick glasses she wore. Thankfully, the anger dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and she once again spoke blandly.

"Well, as you both know, I've been in the business for forty-three years, and never once did I see this kind of man! He was tall, dark-haired, handsome... He just marched in, asked me for money, and I felt... obligated to give it to him. He had stunning eyes that pulled me forward, and I almost fell unconscious just looking in his gaze..." She nodded rapidly as she finished.

The red-haired detective lowered her eyes, going past the dust on her black pants and white blouse, looking at the scuff marks on the table. Her attention once again wavered, this time on the many possibilities for the origins of those small dents. Maybe the table once belonged to an old woman who passed away, and the key to her jewel-filled safe is still glued under the wood?

Once again, Frank's voice snapped her out of her reverie. "I think Nancy and I have all we need, Mrs. Robinson. Thank you; we'll be in touch with you within the next week to keep you updated with our findings."

He stood up, and she struggled to appear interested as she smiled at the elderly woman. She reached over to shake her hand, then turned around and slung the jean jacket over her shoulder, holding on to it as she followed Frank out of the antique shop. Her black high heels made next to no noise on the concrete floor, yet the man in front of her seemed to know she was following him anyway. He stepped into the driver's seat of his black BMW, then snapped on his seatbelt and placed a hand on the steering. Then, he simply stopped moving, his dark eyes staring straight ahead blankly.

After slinking into the car, Nancy threw her jacket in the back of his BMW. The booming sun of the late afternoon made the air damp with humidity, and the darkness of her clothing only attracted more heat.

"So," she said nonchalantly, attaching her seatbelt, "where are we off to next?"

He started the car, then looked at the shady street behind him before carefully backing away. He then pressed hard on the gas pedal, lurching the car slightly. Seemingly unfazed, he kept on driving erratically, ignoring the rapidly-approaching speed limit.

Unused to see the older of the Hardy brothers act so irresponsibly, Nancy heatedly looked at him. "Frank, what's wrong with you? Slow down!"

He heeded her demand and eased on the gas pedal, yet only when it passed by the limit. They kept on driving for a while, and silence hung heavily until Nancy asked, "Where are we heading?"

Frank replied rapidly, "River Heights. You'll then tell me where you live, so I can bring you back

home."

Blinking, Nancy leaned back in her seat, letting the news sink in. Then, she said, "But why would you do that? First, my car is back at my office, and secondly, we're not done here. We have to go see that company to see if we can meet that mysterious man, don't we?"

Frank's speeding grew slightly, but he remained silent. It took Nancy a bit of prompting before he spoke again. "Your heart isn't into it. I made a mistake by asking you to do this with me. I'll let you go back to your own cases."

Her heart sunk slightly. He was right, unfortunately; she shouldn't have thought that she would be able to hide it. The case he had proposed to her did sound intriguing at first, but then other factors had come in play, and her interest had waned. Unfortunately, she couldn't hide it, especially not from Frank Hardy. He was, after all, a detective just like she was.

"Look, I'm sorry," she murmured, shaking her head slowly. "What I do know, though, is that I started this case and I intend to finish it. I'm just a little bit in a bad mood today, Frank, I'm sorry. But don't bring me home; I'll snap out of it, I promise. Maybe it was all the dust. The entire room was caked with it!"

Frank nodded weakly, yet didn't say any more. Both knew that the excuse was a lie; after all, from all the cases they went on, they were both almost immune to dust. He, instead of going straight to the highway that would lead them to River Heights, he took a route she wasn't familiar and kept on driving, his jaw set tightly.

Nancy leaned against the comfortable grey cushions of his fancy car. Her eyes scanned the outside as the last houses of the village flew past, revealing a dry landscape without many trees. After a few minutes of driving, she shut her eyes, and the rhythmic hum of the car lulled her into sleep.

* * *

When the strawberry blonde girl woke up, hours had passed. She blinked confusedly, realizing rapidly she was still in Frank's car.

The problem was that the driver was missing.

She shut her eyes for a few seconds, trying to clear her mind from her sleepy state. Finally, after a while, she studied the outside of the car.

He had driven her to a beach. Behind her was the paved street that had brought them here, and in front of her was the open sea. To her left and to her right were hundreds of kilometres of pure white sand. The only thing tainting the purity of the sea was a long jagged rock. It started in the sand, then reached out in front in a large triangle. Many used it as a tanning spot, or one to just sit and read a good book while dipping their feet in the water.

As soon as she saw the dark figure at the end of the rock, she knew it was him. She felt her lungs tightening at the scene, at the emotion that seemed to seep from him. The orange sky only added to the emotion.

She made her way to the very edge of the rock and climbed onto it, then reached down. She undid the clasps on both the straps of her high heels, and kicked them off carelessly before walking the few metres of the large rock towards Frank.

Nancy knelt beside him, then moved so she could 'sit' on her left hip, favouring the side he was on. She didn't even look at him; she simply stared straight ahead and waited.

Long minutes went, and the silence grew from uncomfortable to gentle and sweet. She even felt his arm skim hers briefly when he shifted.

He spoke first. "I hope you don't mind I brought you here. I thought you might enjoy the change of scenery for a little while." After those words, he turned to look at her. "I also thought it might cheer you up."

The strawberry-blonde haired girl sighed deeply. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, shaking it slowly. Frank Hardy had always been able to read her easily, more easily than many people had. Vainly, she tried to deny it. "Who says I'm upset?"

"I'm not the only one who's noticed it. When I got the message that Mrs. Robinson wanted two different agencies to work on her case, I immediately asked my father to connect me with your employer. He's very nice, and as soon as I mentioned that I knew you, he instantly proposed you to assist me. But, as I was talking to him, he told me that he was starting to get worried about you. Said that he thought you always looked sad when coming at the office, and that it would only get worse with every case he'd give you. He wanted to know what was wrong and I, since I worry about you too, want to know as well." Frank shifted slightly, but only to turn so that he would be able to face her directly. "Can you tell me?"

Nancy was about to deny everything again when a burst of emotion assailed her. Tears filled her eyes, and yet she refused to let them fall; choosing instead to look away and to cross her arms.

Frank gently rested his hand on her furthest shoulder. He waited patiently, then shrugged and whispered, "If you don't feel like telling, then don't."

She cracked. A soft moan escaped her lips and she sunk against him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her tightly. He stroke her back absentmindedly, ready to listen to her if she needed to do so. Finally, she mumbled with her eyes shut tight so the tears wouldn't overflow, "I hate my job. I really hate it."

Frank's eyebrows raised lightly. He had figured out it would've been something probably of somewhat importance, yet this? He had been prepared for fights with friends, with her father, one of her ex-boyfriends, with a coworker... He had even fathomed more dangerous situations, like death threats or a case that had gone wrong and had had horrible consequences but... she was upset because of her detective job? That, he hadn't expected.

"Why your job?" he questioned, slightly incredulous. "How can you dislike your job, Nancy? You do what you love; you're a renowned detective with the town's best agency. You spend your days doing what you do best! You solve mysteries and save lives, both literally and metaphorically. How can you... hate it?"

Nancy squeezed her eyes tight, then had to shake her head to remind herself that she had to stop daydreaming. Sure, sitting on a rock, watching the sunset at the beach while in the arms of a considerate and handsome man _was_ a perfect situation, yet the conversation wasn't really going her way.

"I don't know, Frank..."she sighed, momentarily forgetting her dialogue as he skimmed her hair for a brief second.

He raised an eyebrow for the second time in less than a minute.

She continued, "I do love solving cases and I always figured out that I would fall in the law business when I'd grow older. My dream came true, but I don't understand why I hate it so much. Every day I get new cases, yet I always find them tiring."

Frank actually found himself smiling. He tightened his arms around her once more and heard her sigh with comfort. "Do you want to know what's wrong with you?"

"Hm?" she replied, comfortably settling her head on his shoulder. Her next sentence came out with a slightly sarcastic accent. "Tell me, o great savant."

He ignored the slight diss and said, "You're bored."

She pulled away from his arms, then shot him the most incredulous look she could manage under the circumstances. She twisted the possibility around in her mind, yet it didn't really seem credible.

He got the clue that she wanted him to elaborate, since she didn't react the slightest to his comment. He placed his hands behind himself, flat on the warm rock, and leaned on them heavily. "You're bored. I've noticed that about the human race, long before we learnt it in our high school psychology class. When anyone finds a passion, you have to agree with me that they do it as often as they can, correct?"

She nodded.

"Well, numerous studies were made on people who had serious hobbies. They forced them to do these hobbies instead of just letting them do it on their own. Sooner or later, most of them got tired of it. The author got sick of writing all the time, the singer refused to speak another word, the mathematician would cry anytime a calculator would be in sight..." He then turned to gaze at her beautiful face. "And the detective couldn't handle the cases that were imposed upon her."

Nancy looked down again. She inhaled the sea air deeply, processing his words. She believed him, and it did sound logic. She was, indeed, sick of her work.

Frank finished his speech with, "When pleasure became their work, there would be nothing left to bring pleasure to the person. Their minds would struggle to find balance, and since there weren't any anymore, they'd shut down. There's a fine line between work and fun."

The eighteen-year old sighed deeply. Then, in a soft murmur, she asked, "Those people... Did they ever find their 'fire' again?"

Frank reached over and slipped his hand in hers. "All they had to do is take a step back and reevaluate their position. Fortunately, they all recovered, if that's what you want to know. Only, though, when they wanted practice their hobbies, and not when they were forced to." Then, out of sheer selfishness, he tried, "Usually, they needed a bit of help."

Nancy saw through that one. Her heart, unfortunately for her rational side, began racing. She raised her eyes to look at him carefully, hopefully. "What do you propose?"

"Quit your job, and I'll quit mine." His face indicated that he was dead serious. "Maybe Joe can follow along. We could open our own private office of investigation. We'd only take the jobs that interest us, if it interests us. None of this forced crap. If you feel like not taking a case, you don't take it. Plain and simple. It'll be just us, doing exactly what we love."

There was a small moment of silence before Nancy said gently, "There's a lot of 'us' and 'we' in there, Frank. Is there anything else on your mind?"

It was his time to look slightly surprised, though only the slight widening of his eyes showed it. Nancy found herself smiling despite herself, enjoying the look on his face. She knew that he wasn't dating anyone seriously, an information that her boss had willingly added when presenting the case to her. Yet Nancy had to admit it to herself; had the case been with Joe, she surely would've declined.

Frank kept his eyes straight in the horizon. The sun had almost dipped entirely behind the horizon, basking them in a semi-darkness that seemed more cozy than anything. Soon, he would have to face her. There wouldn't be something to distract them then, whether it was a case or a beautiful scenery.

"You're right," he agreed, finally looking at her right in the eyes, "there is a lot of 'us'."

She understood his reluctance to say it out loud with a smile. Maybe she knew his single status, but he certainly didn't know hers. Carefully, she reached over and placed her hand over his soothingly. His eyes, which were still locked in hers, changed slightly to reveal his happiness as he sat up straighter. Now balancing himself in a sitting position, he took her hand fully in his and tightly held it. "Should I take that as a yes?"

Nancy's eyes fell slightly to study his face. Then, she reached over and gave him a soft kiss, one that he gladly returned.

"Bring me back home," she whispered once she had pulled away. "You need to help me write my resignation letter."

His car keys were already in his hands. "Let's go."


End file.
